Page 133 of Dark Night of the Soul

“Yes.” I cut her off before she could finish. Before she could say the thing that would make it real. “Because the moment you cross that line—the moment you become what they tried to make you—I need you to know you won’t be alone on the other side of it. You’ll still be you. And I’ll still be here.”

Something shifted in her expression. The razor edge of her rage... not dulled. But redirected.

“Munich first,” she said.

“Munich first,” I agreed. “We take away their ability to ever do this again. To anyone.”

“And then?”

“Then we find who had access.” My hand slid to cup the back of her neck. “And we don’t strike. We eradicate. Carefully. Methodically. So that when it’s done, you can still recognize yourself in the mirror.”

“And if I can’t?” The vulnerability in that question nearly undid me.

“I see you,” I said. “All of you.”

I pulled her against my chest, taking the weight she couldn’t hold anymore. “But this isn’t how we do it. Not recklessly. Not when you’re ready to set the world on fire without a plan.”

She leaned her forehead against me. Exhausted.

“I’m so tired of being violated,” she whispered.

“I know. But once you cross certain lines, you don’t come back from them. And I need you to come back. Not for me—for you. Because you’re not what they tried to make you. You’re not a weapon they can point at their enemies. And that matters.”

Her hands fisted in my shirt. Holding on.

“Let your anger make you smarter,” I said.

She sagged against me, the fight draining out of her. Then, in a near whisper, “I hate that you’re right.”

We stood like that. Her breath evening out against my chest. My hands steady on her. One at her waist, one still at the back of her neck. Holding her when everything else felt untethered.

“Of course, I’m right. I’m always right.”

She huffed a laugh. “All right, then. We do it your way. I hope Munich is ready for us.”

“They won’t be. And that’s the point.”

She leaned into me, smaller than she had any right to be after everything they’d done to her. I tightened my arms.

Munich wasn’t a destination anymore.

It was a countdown.

I was already mapping the angles. The routes in, the redundancies, the men who would respond first and the ones who would hesitate. I knew how organizations like the Knights reacted when their sanctuaries were threatened. Panic dressed up as discipline. Loyalty tested under pressure.

They believed themselves safe because no one had ever come for them directly.

That was about to change.

Anna lifted her head, her eyes steady now. Dangerous in their clarity.

“When do we move?”

Soon, I thought. Before they finished tightening their defenses. Before they realized the war had already begun.

“I’ll tell you when,” I said.

She nodded once. Trusted me with it.